Lakeisha Heeringa
The kiss burned the back of her hand like she imagined tar and feathers would. Esther pulled away and grimaced a smile at Corporal Quinn.
“Sadly, there’ll be no sleep tonight,” he said, his Irish accent coloring his words with wistfulness. “But the thought of you will keep me warm on the boats and night march.”
“Where will you be going? Is it dangerous?” Esther leaned in and tried to ignore the revolting red of his uniform.
Corporal Quinn’s gaze jerked from her face and scanned the other patrons of the tavern.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Esther said, trying to blush. She hated flirting, no matter how handsome Corporal Quinn was. But the Sons of Liberty needed to know. Her brother, Gideon, needed to know. This was life or death. And Corporal Quinn, in his blood-colored uniform, was death.
“I suspect there will be some danger. You know how the militia is,” Corporal Quinn said. “General Gage hopes we can seize their supplies at Concord before they have time to muster.”
Concord.
She had to end this conversation and pass the message on to Gideon.
“I’m sure you’ll be back to the Blue Star by tomorrow evening.” She smiled and picked up Corporal Quinn’s empty plate and tankard.
“Coming here is like coming home,” he said. “You, your father, brother, this place… It makes Boston more bearable. I’m finally happy when I’m here.”
Esther ducked her head lest he see the flash of anger in her eyes. Happy? She hadn’t been happy since the day General Gage landed his four regiments in Boston. Ever since then, a slow simmering burn of anger had fueled her.
Trapped in Boston, she had supported her brother’s Sons of Liberty activities while working with him and their father at the family’s Blue Star Tavern. Once, the walls echoed with talk of fair representation, now her eyes swam red through a sea of arrogant Lobsterbacks.
Corporal Quinn was at least tolerable. He had gravitated towards her instantly, saying she reminded him of a girl back home. It wasn’t long before the homesick soldier was spilling out secrets like tea chests being dumped in the harbor.
“How soon before you’re able to return home?” Esther asked.
Corporal Quinn’s expression changed; a spark in his hazel eyes snuffed out the longing before being replaced by sadness. He muttered something, the words foreign, the rhythm pulling at her heart.
“Begging your pardon, Miss Hilpert, but my home is … gone.”
The sadness remained in his eyes as he put on his hat and turned to leave. Other men in red pulled him aside, talking and laughing with the easy pride of victory.
Esther hurried to the kitchen and tossed the corporal’s dirty dishes in the wash pan, wishing, not for the first time, that Corporal Quinn was a patriot.
She stepped out the back door. Shadows filled the alley, a damp chill scaring away the heat of the kitchen.
“Gideon?” she called.
“Hush, I’m right here.” Gideon slipped around the corner. “Any word?”
Esther nodded. “Corporal Quinn again. Night march to Concord. He said they’d be taking boats.”
Gideon nodded. “We’ve been expecting this. I’ll warn the others and then head to Concord.”
Esther gritted her teeth, took stock of his traveling clothes and the powder horn and shot pouch that hung from his shoulders. She couldn’t stop him. Spying on the Redcoats had its risks, but it was worthless if patriots like Gideon didn’t also put their lives on the line. The cost of liberty was steep. Pray to God the cost wouldn’t be Gideon. Or Corporal Quinn.
“Be careful, Gideon,” she said, looking up at him, trying to memorize every detail of her older brother.
A harsh voice broke through the night. “I thought so … the little Delilah!”
Esther whirled around to see the doorway filled with red. The British officer shoved her aside and turned on Gideon, a pistol in his hand.
“You two wouldn’t happen to be members of those treasonous Sons of Liberty?” he spat.
“Leave my sister out of this.” Gideon’s voice was strained, his eyes darting from her to the officer. “It’s me you want, not her.”
“Oh, I’m sure General Gage will want to see both of you to arrange your passage to England, rotting rebel scum!”
The officer turned towards Esther. “I heard you wheedle information out of that naïve boy. He was so—”
His words were cut off as a man sprang through the kitchen doorway, knocking the officer to the ground. Esther jumped back to avoid the tangle of red as Gideon waded into the fray. Within moments, the alley was silent save for the heavy breathing of the fighters.
Gideon and the man from the kitchen stood.
Esther gasped as they moved into the light. “Corporal Quinn?”
“Miss Hilpert, are you well?” He peeled off his red coat and threw it on the ground.
“I don’t understand…” Esther stammered.
Gideon came to her side. “Quinn? Are you one of us?”
Quinn nodded, his eyes searching Esther’s face. “I can’t keep silent anymore. I’m Irish. I’ve seen what the British military and government can do. My home is gone. Family…” He sighed. “Miss Hilpert, I learned quickly what you were doing, and I eagerly gave up what information I could. But the more time I spent with you, the more I realized it was not enough. I can’t let what happened to Ireland happen to you. I’ll take on death for a chance at liberty and a chance with you.”
Sadness wove its way through the happiness in Esther’s heart. She looked up at Quinn, tears blurring her vision. She could lose him tomorrow, but such was the cost of liberty.
“I’ll take the chance,” she said. “Welcome home.”
He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. This time, the kiss was warm with the promise of hope.
Lakeisha is a member of the ACFW and serves on the board of her local chapter. She is an alumna of the Writers Police Academy, a three-time finalist in the ACFW VA Crown Awards, and is on the long road towards publication of her debut novel.
When not writing, Lakeisha is very active in music, serving as a concertmaster, church musician, middle school music teacher, and private music teacher. Any non-existent spare time is filled with hunting, fishing, hiking, baking, and, of course, reading.
Connect with Lakeisha on her website, Facebook, Instagram, or Goodreads.
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